Fat week

Hopefully my paycheck will be just as fat as I've been eating.  I only worked out on Monday this week, and I've been eating a lot of sweets again.  I can't help it, I love to bake.

I skipped work tonight.  Fuck Thursdays.  I went and saw a movie and got my lady faps on to the hot actors.  Much better use of my time.  I could be making money, but I also could be torturing myself to a useless night with nothing but pissed off, broke bitches all competing over a few broke losers.  Thursdays are usually slow, so I usually skip them.  I don't need torment.  I can make money tomorrow.

Oh, on a good note, more steps are being taken to becoming a student again.  I even applied for a vanilla job... I'm feeling so ballsy.  Perhaps why I'm not so inclined to go back to the club.  I'm trying to work on my life on paper.  The bills never seem to go away, so neither will the stripping until my life on paper brings in some actual paper.  I can't be a student forever.  Maybe this major will pay off.  I know what not to do this time.  SLACK OFF...

I'm actually really excited to go back to school.  I'm good at school.  I'm a great, sexy student.

Oh man, I'm still poor.

I hope I make more money this weekend.  The budget got really tight since last weekend failed.  I hate having to be tight with money.  I just want everything... But then life would be too easy.

I'm looking forward to this weekend.  I have a feeling I might make up for last week's fail.  I'm due for a good weekend.  This weekend is my best shot.

Stupid mothers day

Note to inner corporate cocksucker: don't work the Saturday before mothers day.

Tonight was a waste of time.  Ugh.  Fuck my job!

I guess the suckers got robbed by their moms this weekend.

Next week will most likely be much better.  It fucking better be.

Gonna go cry by myself now.  I'm gonna rest up nice this week.  I'll bounce back.  I'm resilient.

Lame ass crowd

I had to hustle hard.  It wasn't busy enough to not care.  I had to enforce my high price on the grabby guys.  I didn't have any patience.

Many girls were pretty angry that the Friday crowd was bullshit.  I didn't want it rubbing off on me, but it's hard to avoid when no one wants to get a dance.

I guess there goes the season.  I should go up north for the summer, but I know I won't go.  I'm too scared to travel.

Not so bad after all

A few days ago, I was bracing myself for the painful rent week woes, but this weekend turned out to be productive.  

So one of my readers posted a comment asking about the dynamics of stripper pay.  

I'll explain.  

Stripping can be great money when the stripper is on her game, the customers are spending, and the competition isn't outnumbering the customers.  That's a formula for stripper success.  

Every strip club encourages its customers to tip their favorite dancer.  It can be as little as $1, but the ballers make it rain.  Big bills are more appreciated, of course.  Money talks.  But stage tipping isn't the only way dancers make money.  There's a reason we all go, "Wanna dance?"

Every club is different on how lap dances are priced.  In some clubs, it's $10 per song.  In other clubs, it's $30 per song.  Some clubs have timed VIP rooms as low as $75 for 15 minutes.  The highest I remember seeing was $600 for an hour in the champagne room.  The dancer may or may not keep all the monies charged.

Some clubs take a flat "house" fee for the night.  Some clubs take a cut of each lap dance sold.  I prefer the flat fee, because it really feels like a total rip off to me, especially if I sell a lot of dances, that's a lot of my money being wasted on the club.  I think it's a unnecessary hustle to the very thing that keeps the club in business.  

For example, I used to work at a shit hole club that took $25 for every $75 room I did.  So I only got $50 when the guy paid $75.  So the club makes $100 if I sell 4 rooms.  And I only keep $200 out of the $300 spent.  It's too big of a cut.  I'd rather pay $42 every night whether I make $50 or $500.  My house fee should cover the wear and tear of the space I use, keep the lights on, and the staff paid.  It shouldn't go up just because I was having a good night.   

Income is not usually consistent.  There are good nights and three times as many bad nights.  As fast as I can make the money, it's coupled with the generosity and wealth of the crowd I'm given.  Sometimes every guy wants to buy a lap dance and other times, everybody's broke.  Sometimes guys are ultra resistant to tipping.  Which vexes me, but I can't let it drive me crazy.  I'm overjoyed when someone tips too much.  

Anyway, there's my digestion of how strippers get paid.  Hope it made sense.  

Fuck your birthday!

I cleaned up tonight.  ¡Muy limpia!

The biggest spender was a Mexican man from California.  I guess I was totally his type because I brought him to climax on accident.  I wasn't trying to.

I learned how to ask for a big tip in Spanish so I got paid a good tip, but not enough.  It's never enough.  But at least I didn't bang him.  I obviously didn't have to.  

I wore my pink sparkle heels and lingerie, which I believe helped me tonight.  Add to the broken record that pink makes money.  Weird how that works.  I think I'll try white tomorrow night.  White is the other moneymaker.  Or maybe pink and white polka dots.

The first compliment of the night was from this frequent visitor (not spender) who said I had the intelligent look.  I'll take it.  I honestly think intelligence is sexy.  I get excited when someone says they have a 4.0 or a masters or a doctorate.  

OMG I can't make one post about work without complaining.  So.  This fucking 21st birthday dude is trying to squeeze more time out of me by saying "...but it's my birthday!"  After he told me that for the third time, I felt so inclined to just blurt, FUCK YOUR STUPID BIRTHDAY!  Gawd!  IDGAF!  GO HOME AND JERK OFF! 

I think the birthday line should always be avoided in the strip club, after giving it some thought.  I was beginning to think he was lying since he had to remind me more than once that it was his birthday.  You don't have to keep reminding me.  It only reminds me that 21-year-old guys are fucking babies in the strip club with false senses of entitlement.  Another one ruins it for the young guys, sorry under-30 dudes.  

And I never got shit on my birthday.  My birthday was a shitty Saturday, which is sacrilege!  Saturdays are not supposed to suck, and the one that sucked was my birthday.  Nobody was tipping and I even had a little birthday girl ribbon on.  I should've went out and partied.  

So that was my night.  I worked.  Tonight worked overall.  To my surprise, rent weekend isn't failing me.  

Douche night

I had lots of practice dealing with douche bags on Saturday night.  I got a lot of those one-liners I love hearing so much.  

While I was dancing for an ugly, young drunk guy, he asked, "You give blowjobs?"

I was a little shocked because I hadn't heard it in a while.  I don't think I give off that vibe but when you're drunk, you get those vibes whether they're there or not.

"Uh, no," I replied.  "I am a lap dancer only."

"So you're just gonna charge me money and leave me hanging like this?" he said as he looked down at his hard on.

"Yes, I do it every day."

Crybaby.

"But I want a little more than that.  I want to come," the horny drunkard begged.

Stop crying!

"I'll tell you where to get that since you're being so honest."  As I collected the money, I listed off a few places in the area that had their reputations for giving orgasms.

I'd like to think I handled that well.

When I was on stage, there were a bunch of guys in their mid-20s all with wads of singles in their hands.  So I got in front of one of them and did my usual intro dance to get some quick dollars.  I don't bend down until I know I'm getting paid, so when he didn't reach out to tip after staring at me for a good 15 seconds, I stretched out my garter to demand it (because it usually works, even if the guy isn't into me), and he gave me my favorite line of bullshit.

"You gotta work a little harder than that," he said as he held up one dollar, waving it like a doggy treat.

OMG no I don't, I'm already naked, you got to see my pussy, it's YOUR turn to pay!

But I really said nothing and slowly moved on.  Fuck that guy.  I'm not busting my ass for one stupid dollar.  He was a douche bag, worthy of no attention.

Making money was like pulling teeth all night tonight.  One guy even offered to trade molly (some kind of ecstasy) for lap dances.

In my head I was thinking, "First off, I don't dance for drugs.  If I need drugs, I can buy them with the money that I get from lap dances, but I don't need molly and even if I did, I wouldn't go through you, a stranger I met at my JOB.  I don't even know if your shit is even good or if it's even REAL!  It could be baby powder for all I know."

But I said, "Hope you make some money soon, let me know when you want to dance."

*peace*

Ugh!  Get away, scum!

I learned this early on in my dancing career: don't buy drugs at the strip club!  It's never a good decision.

Not much quality.  No handsome money princes.  Lots of chaos.

The moon was full this weekend.  Imagine that.